


you taste like beer and innocence

by cherryliqueur



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Play, Cock Warming, Coming Inside, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Sitting, Infidelity, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16809418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryliqueur/pseuds/cherryliqueur
Summary: Betty drops by the trailer to pick up her textbook and ends up spending some quality time with FP.





	you taste like beer and innocence

**Author's Note:**

> For two prompts from the [Riverdale Kinkmeme](https://riverdale-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1356.html):
> 
> "Jughead and Betty are in a very sweet young love relationship. Jughead is happy to take it slow with her, having been told by FP that he has to be a gentleman. One thing he doesn't know, though, is that some days after Vixen practice, while he's plugging away on his novel at Pop's, Betty heads over to the trailer to fuck FP.
> 
> FP doesn't want his kid putting pressure on Betty. But he's happy to teach Betty whatever she wants to know about sex, eating her out and using all of her holes.
> 
> \+ Betty in her cheerleading uniform  
> \+ FP being hung  
> \+ FP coming inside  
> \+ ~~if she gets pregnant and hurriedly fucks Jughead to pretend the baby is his, FP acts the supportive grandparent~~ "
> 
> and
> 
> "would just love some fp/betty, don't much care about the context. maybe fp's drunk and betty just happens to be there. would prefer betty to be kind of into it and hating herself for it. they do it in as many different ways and as many different places in the trailer as they can. multiple orgasms for betty, with fp laying on plenty of dirty talk.
> 
> +no condom (or they use a condom at first and then just don't bother)  
> +betty crying at some point  
> + ~~betty is a virgin until this~~ "

“Yeah, just let yourself in,” Jughead says over the line, sounding distracted. She can hear the sounds of chatter coming from Pop’s, and the faint clicks of his fingers gliding over the keyboard as he types, delving deeper into the newest novel he’s writing. He’s started several more since junior year began, and, thankfully, she’s had hours of homework River Vixens practices to keep her busy while he’s writing away at Pop’s almost every hour after school. It’s a miracle she managed to forget her AP Calculus textbook at his place at all considering it’s been a while since they’ve spent time there.

“Is your dad home?” Betty glances up as she makes her way toward FP’s trailer, her eyes fixing on the front door. 

“Ah, no clue.” There’s a pause, more typing. Betty shivers as a breeze passes through, and she reaches down to uselessly tugging at the hem of her skirt. Cheryl had them run routines in their uniforms today, and while Betty knows that all of the measurements are to regulation (she’d taken care of the ordering and alterations, of course) the skirt still feels too short, especially out in the crisp October air. “He probably isn’t, but he should’ve left the door unlocked for you.”

Betty glances over her shoulder. “Is that safe?”

“Well, we don’t exactly have things worth stealing in there, so.”

She tips her head. _Well, that may be true_. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Yeah, meet me here at Pop’s. I’ll buy you all the milkshakes you want,” he promises, and she smiles as she says goodbye.

Sure enough the door is unlocked when she goes to open it, and it’s quiet as she steps inside. The place is almost entirely dark aside from the sliver of light coming in through a part in the drapes, and she squints through the low glow as the door shuts behind her. She reaches for the lamp that she knows is on her right, tugging the string to turn it on... and then she jerks her hand back with a gasp when she realizes that she’s not alone.

FP gives her an amused grin from where he’s perched in his armchair, his beer paused halfway to his lips. “Hey, Betty.”

“Mr. Jones,” she breathes out with a laugh, hands pressed to her chest.

“ _Betty_.” His lips twitch at the corners. “I’ve told you, call me FP.”

She hesitates, licking her lower lip. She’s called him FP dozens of times, of course, but never to his face. It just feels too... informal. Too _personal_ , which is a little ridiculous considering he’s her boyfriend’s father, and when you consider just how long they’ve known each other. “FP,” she replies with a little too much emphasis, dragging out the words, and he chuckles as he shakes his head and takes a gulp of beer. “Jughead wasn’t sure if you’d be home.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Got to leave Pop’s early, and since I’ve been putting in a lot of early mornings, I figured I’d earned a beer or two.” He gestures to the beer cans on the small table beside his armchair, adding, “Care to join me?”

She tilts her head, giving him a playfully dubious stare even as she takes his invitation to walk forward. “I feel like this is a test,” she says, sinking into the seat beside his.

He barks out a laugh. “I’ll try not to be offended that you said that.” He grabs a beer and tosses over to her, and she reacts before she realizes it, catching it with both hands before it can fall into her lap. She arches an eyebrow at him and he smirks, and, _oh_. Sometimes she forgets just how attractive that expression is on him. “You’re an adult, practically,” he says, and she wonders if she imagines the way his eyes dart down over her body. She’s being _ridiculous_ , but she’ll admit that the idea of it makes her feel... tingly, and tight low in her stomach. She cracks the tab open, simply to give herself something to do, and he nods at the can as his smirk widens. “One won’t hurt.”

\----------

She has more than one.

She has more than one, and she’ lost count, scrunching her nose as she tips her head back and drains the last of the sour liquid from the can. FP’s cans are half-crushed and laid out across the small table between them, and hers are carefully lined up, and she thinks it’s kind of hilarious, so she giggles. She’d felt cold earlier, but after being in the trailer and having however many beers that she’s had has warmed her up, and now she feels tingly and flushed. She feels...

“You good, Betty?”

FP’s hand touches her shoulder, making her jump, and she tips her head back to grin up at him. He’s drawn the curtains wide open now, and, in the glow of the afternoon light that’s begun to dim outside, he looks ridiculously handsome.

“I’m good,” she mumbles, and her words are a little slurred, but she feels really _good._ His hand slides over the curve of her neck, cupping her cheek, and he rubs his thumb over her lips. That feels really good, too. “I’m _good_ ,” she repeats.

“Yeah?” His eyes flick back down to her chest. “You look... flushed.”

“ _Mmm_.” She nods, bringing her hands up to grasp at her cheer top and tug. She’d worn a thermal underneath because they’d practiced outside and it was cold, but that feels like a silly move now when she’s practically burning up. She tugs uselessly at the edge of her sleeves and groans. “It’s _warm_.”

FP chuckles, setting his beer aside as he squats down beside her chair, meeting her eyes. His gaze seems darker now, or maybe that’s because it’s starting to get dark outside. She can’t quite tell. “I don’t know how you’re warm at all in this little thing,” he says, reaching up to tug her cheer skirt higher up her thighs, and a warmth fans over her skin where his fingers grazed her. His skin feels warm and calloused, but it’s _nice_.

“It’s _this_ ,” she says, pulling at her sleeves with a pout. “I thought I would be cold but I’m not anymore and it doesn’t look sexy like this, anyway.”

His hand rests over her thigh, his thumb digging a circle into her flesh. “Why?”

“Because I’m _covered._ ” She leans back, sinking into the chair a little more as she meets his gaze. “People think more skin is sexier, and cheerleaders are supposed to be sexy, so.” She scrunches her nose. “No one thinks I’m sexy.”

“I do,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly, making her stomach flip.

“No, you think I’m cute.” She shakes her head, feeling her ponytail bob, and the motion makes her mind feel just a little bit fuzzier. “I’m Betty Cooper. I’ve always been _cute_. The girl next door is never the sexy one, she’s the _cute_ one.”

“Mm.” He grips her thigh, tugging her forward, and she gasps as her body slides down the chair until her ass is practically hanging off of the cushion. His other hand comes up to cover her knees, parting her legs a little more, and her skin explodes in sensation as he gives her a squeeze. “No, Betty,” he says, sliding his hands up her thighs, and her heart skips when he slips under the hem of her skirt. “I said I think you’re _sexy_.”

Her eyelids feel heavy as she blinks them. “You do?”

He nods, flipping her skirt up and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of her spanx and her panties. Her breath catches, and his lips pull at the corner. “I do,” he says, tapping her hip, and, obediently, she lifts her hips so he can tug her spanx and panties down her thighs, and he pulls them off entirely, tossing them carelessly off to the side. “In fact, you look so sexy that I’ve wanted nothing but for you to sit on my face in your skirt ever since you walked in.”

 _Oh_. She feels her sex flutter, growing wetter. “You...” She blinks. “What?”

He grasps her hands and tugs her forward as he starts to lay himself on his back on the floor, and, with the warm thrum of alcohol coursing through her blood, she sinks onto her knees and climbs on top of him, straddling his chest. “You ever done this, Betty?” He grasps her legs, hands sliding up to curve over her ass and give her a squeeze. She jolts, her body bowing forward. “You ever ride a guy’s face?” She shakes her head. “Ever had a guy eat you out before?” Another shake. He hums, scoots her further up, until her knees are placed on either side of his head, her sex hovering just above his lips. “What a damn shame,” he says, sounding not at all apologetic.

Then his head tips up to lick at her and she gasps, her hips rolling forward in reflex. Oh, _oh_. His tongue laps at her, sliding up to seek out her little bundle of nerves, and her desire tightens in her stomach as she grinds her hips down.

_That feels... it’s so..._

His stubble scratches the inside of her thighs, his hands tightening on her ass as he holds her in place, limiting her movements and drawing a whine of protest. She wasn’t lying when she said she’d never done this, but the need to hump his mouth is instinctual. She tosses her head back, her moan echoing through the air as she tries to move faster, grind down harder. Her thighs are burning and so are her knees, but she can barely feel it with the force of the pleasure coursing over her. His nose brushes against her clit as he licks up, moaning and sending tingling vibrations against her sex.

Her fingers fumble for the zipper at her back, gracelessly tugging at it until she gets it all the way down, and she tosses her cheer top to the floor with a huff before she starts yanking off her thermal. He gives a particularly hard suck over her clit as she’s pulling it over her head, and she manages to get tangled in her sleeves as she jerks in surprise. He sucks again, and again, and then she feels one of his hands on her ass loosen its grip and slid between her legs. She scrambles to pull her thermal off, finally pulling herself free as she feels one of his long fingers slide through her wetness.

“ _FP_.” She bends forward, bracing a hand against the floor to keep herself propped up as the other reaches for her skirt to flip it up. She can’t really see his face at this angle, but she can see his lips sucking at her, can watch his tongue dart out to lick at her and his fingers rub at her entrance. Her sex flutters in anticipation; she’s been fingered by someone other than herself before, but she knows that it will feel so much _better_ with FP.

But, rather than thrusting them inside, he teases her, barely sinking into her entrance before pulling back out. He does it again, and again, and again, and she whimpers in frustration.

Then lips find her clit again, sucking hard as he thrusts two fingers up into her, and she screams out in orgasm.

\----------

“What...” She swallows, still barely catching her breath as he pushes her back against his armchair. It’s slightly slicked with her sweat, her body still trembling from when he’d eaten her into two orgasms and fingered her to a third, back to back to back. He smirks down at her, grasping her knee and hooking it over one of the arms of the chair, spreading her as his eyes slide down her body. Her bra had been ripped from its clasps in the throes of her second orgasm, and her skirt is bunched higher up her stomach and twisted haphazardly. She still has her knee-high socks and her sneakers on, but that’s only a technicality, because he hasn’t wanted to stop long enough to take it off. “What is that?”

He holds up the slim, red object in his hand, letting it glint in the sunlight as he smirks. “Fanciest bottle opener I’ve ever owned,” he says, bracing a hand against the back of the armchair so he can lean over her. He taps the bottle opener against her wet, twitching sex, and her hips jump. “I’m thinking we keep expanding your horizons here, Betty. You’re always so curious, aren’t you?”

She glances down between her legs, feeling herself tremble as he slowly rubs the bottle opener against her wet folds. “Are you going...”

He traces the bottle opener up and circles her clit, making her whine. He does it again and again as he reaches over with his free hand, cracking the top off of another can of beer then grabbing it and taking a swig. “Use your words, Betty.”

“Are you going to...” She swallows, a shiver rippling over her as he eases the bottle opener off of her clit, sliding back into her folds. “Are you going to put it in me?” He arches an eyebrow, his smirk positively wicked, and she feels her cheeks flush even harder, if possible. “Are you putting it in my pussy?”

She almost stutters over the word and it makes him chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m going to put this in your pussy,” he says, circling it over her entrance. “I’m going to fuck you with this, because I’m pretty sure you’ve never been fucked by anything other than a dick or fingers.” It’s not a question, but she knows the moan she lets out is all the answer he needs. He leans in, his lips right by her ear as he whispers, “then, when it’s covered in your cum, I’m going to stick this in your ass.”

She gasps, and she’s not quite sure if it’s from the thought of anything being in her ass, or if it’s because he’s shoved the bottle opener all the way into her.

Probably both.

“Now walk over to the window and brace your hands against it.”

She swallows, glancing over his shoulder. The window itself isn’t all the wide, but it’s low enough on the wall that, if she’s standing in front of it, anyone who happens to glance her way will be able to see her: with her bra hanging off of her shoulders and her nipples pebbled and her skirt twisted over her stomach. They’ll see her hair half-falling out of its ponytail, tugged and trussed by her own fingers in the highs of her orgasms, and they’ll know exactly what’s happening.

Realistically, she knows there’s not a lot of movement around here at all in the afternoon and early evening. Most people like to keep to themselves and to stay inside their trailers, but still. Someone could very well walk by.

She shouldn’t like the thought as much as she does.

Her legs are shaking as she pulls herself onto her feet, and she squeals as she feels the bottle opener shift inside of her. Her thighs are shut, keeping it in place, but she knows that as soon as she starts to walk, it could fall out. She glances over her shoulder at him, catching his smirk, and she knows he did that on purpose.

Reaching between her legs, she cups her sex as she walks, pushing at the bottle opener to keep it inside her. It feels... _weird_ , having it inside her, _moving_ with it inside her, but she doesn’t hate it. Maybe if she wasn’t so wet and wasn’t still trembling from her first three orgasms, she might have felt differently. But right now, she feels nothing but anticipation. She reaches the window, bracing her free hand against the glass, and her bra slips further down her arms until it snags on her elbows, completely exposing her breasts.

FP steps up behind her, cupping one breast roughly with one hand and batting her hand away from her sex with the other. He kicks her legs further apart and grasps the end of the bottle opener as it starts to slide out, beginning to fuck her with it as he tugs at her nipple.

“Look at you, Betty Cooper.” He pinches her nipple, making her body jolt as she cries out. “Cute, perfect little Betty Cooper getting fucked with a bottle opener.” He catches her earlobe between his teeth, nipping. “Letting her brooding, sweet boyfriend’s father make her cum again and again while he’s off writing all those stories in his head.” He pulls the bottle opener out and drags it up and over her clit roughly, making her whine. “Think he’ll write one about us? Taboo love is a best-seller, after all.”

Her nails scratch at the glass as she stares out the window, her heart nearly dropping in her chest when she sees a person emerge from between two trailers. He’s got his back to them, walking away from their direction, but still. He could stop for some reason, decide to turn around, and then he’d look up...

He thrusts the bottle opener back into her deeper, harder, and she lets out a sharp cry before slapping her hand over her mouth. The stranger doesn’t even so much as pause, and FP rips her hand away before shoving her forward, her breasts being pressed against the glass as he fucks her faster. She watches the man pause, turn slightly, and she squeals as the bottle opener brushes against her g-spot. The man turns a little more, nearly facing their direction as FP fucks her harder into the glass, and Betty doesn’t even realize that her eyes are watering until she blinks and her vision goes blurry.

Her face is wet with tears as she’s pushed over the edge, and she can just barely make out the figure of the man walking away from them, blissfully unaware as she falls apart from the force of her orgasm. Her knees buckle, her weight leaning entirely against the glass as she shudders, and she’s so caught up in pleasure that she barely notices the way something solid is pressing against her asshole.

She glances over her shoulder with a whimper, but FP’s free hand comes around her waist, his fingers massaging her clit and making her cry out at the sensation as he presses the bottle opener into her a little more. “So fucking tight,” he groans, pushing it in another inch, and then another, circling her clit faster as her orgasm is still washing over her, and she knows when it’s all the way in because she feels so fucking _full_.

He grasps her wrists and spins her around, making her whimper as she feels the bottle opener shift inside of her. He picks his can of beer up from where he’d placed it on the floor, taking another swig as he pulls her forward, walking them into the kitchen. He drains the rest of his beer, tossing the empty can into the sink before wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and her eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans. She licks her lips.

”You read my mind,” he says, bringing his hands to the button of his jeans and popping them open. She watches, feeling aroused all over again as he slowly pushes his jeans and his underwear off from around his hips, and she gasps when she sees just how big he is. He wraps his hand around his length, lazily stroking himself as he walks backwards and sits down in a kitchen chair with his legs spread. “On your knees,” he commands, and she all but scrambles to obey as she hurries to him and drops to her knees. _God_ , he’s even bigger up close.

He tips himself forward, dragging his pre-cum across her lips, and she glances up at him from under her eyelashes.

“Let’s see how far down that throat I can go,” he says, grasping her ponytail and dragging her to his erection, and she whimpers as she parts her lips for him.

\----------

“ _P...Please!”_ She gasps, clutching at his shoulders and digging her nails into his flesh as he slowly lifts herself off of his cock again, until just the tip of him is inside. It’s been like this for the last half hour, ever since he’d come inside her mouth and painted half of her face with his release. He’d dragged her off of her knees and onto his lap, the bottle opener still lodged in her ass as he sank her down on him, and she’d felt her eyes burning with tears again at the sensation of being so filled as he buried into her to the hilt.

And then he’d begun to tease her.

“Cock-warming” is what he’d called it, letting her _sit_ on him, aching, not moving, not so much as touching her sensitive nipples or her even more sensitive clit. He’d picked up his phone off the table, browsed on the web a little bit as she shivered and tried to roll her hips against the tight grip of his other hand. He’d taken a call from Jughead, asking if he noticed if Betty came by to get her book and wondering where she was because she wasn’t replying to his text from an hour ago. An _hour_ ago, when she’d been sitting on his face, writhing in her first orgasm as his tongue and fingers were quickly pushing her to a second.

He’d smirked up at her as he talked with Jughead on speakerphone, slowly lifting her hips, and she had to bite her tongue to fight back a frustrated huff and a desperate whimper as he lifted her all the way up and sank her all the way back down. He told Jughead that he’d been home when Betty came by, and that she looked sick, and he apologized, saying he promised that he’d text him on Betty’s behalf to let Jughead know she couldn’t meet him at Pop’s today.

Jughead had sounded normal, distracted once again by his writing when they’d said their goodbyes, and FP simply sank Betty back down onto him by the hilt and went back to his phone to read some local news, check some game scores.

And now, she’s trembling, quivering, so wet that she’s dripping onto his thighs.

_She needs to... she has to..._

“Feeling alright there, Betty?” FP slips a finger between them, thumb just barely grazing her clit, and she whimpers and twists her fingers into his hair.

“Please,” she gasps, trying to roll her hips. “I need to come.”

He smirks. “You _did_ come, sweetheart.” He lifts his thumb, swirled in her wetness and in her cum and a little bit of his, from where it had dripped from her chin and down her stomach and all the way between her legs. She parts her lips obediently, sucking their slickness off of his skin. “On my face, twice. Against the window. On your knees, while sucking me off.” He wraps his fingers around her skirt and twists the material in his grip. “Your skirt is _covered_ in your cum.”

“ _Again_.” She whimpers as he starts to pull her off of him, her head shaking back and forth. “I need to come _again_.”

He groans as he stands up, lifting her and all but throwing her onto the table. He grasps at her hips, thrusting into her again, and again, and again, building a brutal pace. He grasps both of her ankles and stretches them high, hooking her heels over her shoulder as he fucks her harder and deeper. She moans, her fingers clawing at the table as her spine arches.

“Oh, you’ll come again, baby doll,” he promises. “There’s still so much of this trailer we haven’t painted in cum.” His fingers grasp at her chin, yanking her head forward to meet his eyes, and her vision is blurry at the edges with the rapidly building pleasure in her veins. “And I haven’t even kissed you yet. But we’ll save that for next time.” He reaches up, sweeping some of the stray hairs from her face in a gesture that’s disarmingly gentle considering the harsh way he’s fucking her. “I want to see you spread out on the coffee table, or bent over my chair. I want to see you on your knees in the middle of this kitchen floor while I eat off of you, then eat you out, and then, while you’re cleaning up like your perpetually _nice_ nature will compel you to do, I’m going to bend you over the sink and fuck you there, too.”

His words hit her almost as hard as her orgasm does, and she feels the world spin out from underneath her as he fucks her harder. And then he goes taut above her, groaning, and she feels his warmth spilling inside of her as he comes.

(She’s home and fresh out of the shower when her phone lights up with a text from FP, saying that he owed her from stashing her once again forgotten textbook before Jughead could notice it in his room. Betty bites back a giggle.

Oops.)

**Author's Note:**

> [come sin with me on tumblr](https://cherryliqueurkinks.tumblr.com/)


End file.
